Chapter Three
“Heed the call when the mists of the Highlands calls forth your name.”
The north wind slapped viciously, leaving its bitter sting across Ailsa’s face. She gritted her teeth, as she held firm to the reins of her horse, urging her animal upward through the dense trees. Whispering soothing words to her mount, she made slow progress along a path that had seen better days. Rocks, broken branches, and mud littered the ground. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the animal balked once again.
Ailsa halted. Lifting her head, she sniffed the air. The storm was heading their way. If they did not find shelter soon, she feared they would have to make do under the trees.
She patted the horse’s neck. “We must keep moving forward, Elva. Aye, I ken ye dinnae like the smell of the air, but ’tis not safe here.”
The animal snorted.
“I take it we are in agreement, or is it disgust ye are spouting?”
“Keep moving,” shouted her father. “We waste time!”
Ailsa gave him a disapproving look, but moved ahead. If he had listened to her earlier in the morning, they would not be in these circumstances. She’d begged him to halt their journey until the storm passed. Yet, the great Bran MacDuff refused to hear her pleas, stating it was barely a light Highland shower. In all her years, her father had never believed in her gift to sense the storms. He had called her foolish. Aye, he believed in the old magic, but not in the daughter of a MacDuff. The special gift was reserved for sons and druids. Daughters were healers—their knowledge handed down from mother to daughter, as did her mother to her.
And now they were caught in the grip of an impending tempest.
“Can I help ye?” asked Muir. He moved alongside the animal.
She shook her head. “Elva will sense the other animal’s stress.”
Her father’s guard glanced quickly at his horse. “My horse has seen worse and fears naught.”
Ailsa tried hard not to roll her eyes at the man. “Aye, but the animal has remained safe within shelter at our home during fierce storms. This is the first time we have ventured to Scotland.”
“Might I remind ye that we traveled the sea during one?”
“It was merely a light mist,” she scoffed, stepping over a log.
“When we landed, the mist turned to rain,” he countered.
Thunder roared closer this time, but Ailsa kept a firm hand on the reins. “Sweet Mother Danu, please show us shelter.”
“Aye, Mother Danu,” echoed Muir.
The path narrowed, and Ailsa waved the guard on ahead. Within moments, lightning split the gray sky, and it took all of her control to keep a steady hand on Elva’s reins. Glancing over her shoulder, she scanned the area. Their druid was nowhere to be seen.
When the first drop of rain landed on her head, she swore softly. “I need ye to be strong, Elva.” Leading her horse to level ground, she secured her and went in search of the druid.
Searching the trees, she yelled, “Tam! Where are ye?”
Her father would be furious if anything happened to the druid. He had specifically ordered her to watch over and protect the man.
“Tam!” Her voice was lost in the sound of more thunder as the sky opened up completely. Wiping her eyes, she crept carefully down the muddy path. A frightened bird flew out from the trees, almost colliding with her. “Bloody bastard!”
The icy rain bit into her face and hair, but she kept on moving. “Tam, if ye dinnae show yourself, I swear by all the Gods and Goddesses, I will kill ye myself.”
A gust of wind made her steps unsteady. “Sweet Goddess, if ye are gathering herbs, Tam…”
Ailsa stumbled forward, grasping a hold of one of the pine trees. Searching the deep area of the forest, she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the druid kneeling on the ground. Scratching her nose, she started toward him.
“Are ye ill?” she asked, looking around for his horse.
He remained kneeling and made no attempt to answer her.
“For the love of Mother Danu, what is wrong?” Ailsa demanded, fighting the urge to yank the man up by his robe.
Tam lifted his head and stood slowly. “Praying to the God of the storms.”
“Then I pray he has listened, but we need to venture out of its path,” shouted Ailsa, noticing his horse sheltered safely nearby.
Ailsa coaxed the animal with soothing words out from his shelter. Handing the reins to Tam, she motioned him forward.
“I have never seen anything so fierce,” he stated over his shoulder to her.
“’Tis why we must find protection until it passes.”
Making their way up the path, Ailsa greeted her own horse. Taking the reins, she followed the druid. If he reckoned it best to pray, he could do so walking. She did not want to suffer a tongue-lashing from her father again.
As the rain continued to thrash down upon them, the ground became a pool of mud, making the ascent even more difficult and dangerous. Ailsa silently cursed her father again. Her horse whinnied, sensing Ailsa’s fury. Patting its thick white mane, she tried to calm the animal and her own stress.
Slipping on a slick boulder, she wiped the rain from her eyes. Glancing up, Ailsa almost shouted for joy when they came to level ground.
Muir started toward her and grabbed the reins of her horse. “Blair has found a cave. ’Tis small, so the horses must remain nearby. Ye can find it beyond the trees on the right.”
Ailsa shook her head. “Nae. If lightning splinters the sky, they will panic. I will stay with them.”
“’Tis madness and your father willnae allow ye to remain with the horses.”
She shrugged. “Not his decision.”
Muir let out a curse. “Follow me.”
Ailsa took the reins of Tam’s horse. Pointing to the trees, she ordered, “There is a cave. Go seek shelter.”
Tam nodded and quickly disappeared through the pines.
Lightning seared the sky so close to them her skin prickled. They managed to escort the horses to where the rest of the animals had been secured. The enclosure was not as bad as she had expected. All the horses were safely against the rocky hill under some trees. Safe, but not enough to convince her to leave them unprotected. If they lost their horses, their journey would come to an abrupt end, leaving them without a way back to their home.
Muir gave her a disapproving look before leaving her.
“Ye may fear to cross the great MacDuff, but I have nae fear of my father,” she muttered, watching him depart.
Ailsa took in her surroundings. Sitting on the cold, muddy ground was not a choice. Moving through the trees, she spotted a log partially sheltered from the elements. Saying a silent prayer of thanks, she gave one final pat to her horse and then took a seat on the log. Heaving a weary sigh, she had no sooner pulled the hood of her cloak over her head than her father’s bellow echoed through the trees.
Not bothering to stand before the gruff man, she waited until he approached.
“By the hounds of Cuchulainn!” he roared. “I ordered everyone inside the cave and that includes ye!”
She lifted her head. “The horses are easily frightened. Someone must tend to them until the worst passes.”
His eyes flashed with outrage. “How dare ye counter my orders!”
Ailsa stood. “And what happens if the horses trample each other. Or worse, become free and tumble down the muddy hill?”
“We can find them come morn,” he barked out.
“Ye ken it is best someone stays with them, Father,” she argued, trying to keep her voice calm.
He lowered his head to mere inches from her face, but Ailsa did not flinch. “’Tis my concern, not yours. Furthermore, I have ordered Muir to watch over them.”
This time, Ailsa blinked. So ye punish your own guard because he did not bring me back to the cave. She started to say something, but he held up his hand in warning.
Pushing past him, she almost collided with the guard. Pausing, she leaned up to him. “There’s some honeyed bread and dried beef in my pouch on Elva. Ye are welcomed to some.”
He gave her a small smile. “I thank ye kindly, but I have some food.”
Nodding, Ailsa made her way to and then inside the cave. The smells of men and damp earth assaulted her. A small fire blazed in the center, but it did little to banish the chill within the place. She gave a weak smile to the three guards, Gordon, Michael, and Blair, as she made her way to sit with Tam by the fire.
Holding out her hands toward the flames, Ailsa tried to warm them.
“Ye should remove your cloak,” whispered Tam, nudging her slightly.
She looked at him sideways. “It will not dry fully.”
“Ye can put it on my staff.”
Sighing, she complied and handed her cloak to Tam. The druid placed it over the staff and leaned it against the stone wall.
Squeezing her hands together, she huddled closer to the flames as thunder continued to roll loudly above them. “Thank ye. Where are the other guards?”
“They are gathering more wood for the fire. Dinnae fear, the storm shall soon pass,” he reassured.
Ailsa closed her eyes. “Nae, Tam, the storm is a giant and will continue to lash out at the land until morn.”
He leaned near her. “Ye have witnessed its power?”
Weariness settled within her bones. “Aye,” she whispered and then added, “Tell my father, since he will not believe me.”
“Lady Ailsa—”
Snapping her eyes open, she glared at the druid. “Please do not argue with me. Ye ken how my father would respond if I told him. I have no wish to anger him further.”
His lips thinned. “He should not treat ye thus.”
“Regardless, please speak with him. He will listen to your counsel.” She gave him a weak smile.
“As soon as he fills his stomach, I will speak with him. He is more amiable after a meal and drink. Let me go fetch ye some food.”
Chuckling softly, Ailsa nodded. Wise plan, druid. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she tried to fight the headache seeping in between her eyes. Lack of food and sleep did not bode well with her, especially with the arrival of the storm. She’d sensed the prickle of its power late last evening and immediately spoke with her father. Nevertheless, he would not hear her account.
If only her mother were still alive. She would have urged him to listen as she always had in the past. In truth, he never paid attention, but his mood would soften when her mother pleaded with him. However, her death brought deep anguish to him. Bran MacDuff was a force to be reckoned with when angered. Yet, now with her mother gone, he was uncontrollable. Even his own men dared not cross him at such times.
Ailsa watched the flames snap and hiss, recalling her mother’s final words to her.
“Dearest, ye must convince your father to take my ashes to the Great Glen in Scotland and scatter them in the loch where the Great Dragon resides. ’Tis my last request.”
“Do not speak to me of your passing. Ye will survive this sickness. Tam is making ready to leave the island and seek out other druids who ken the skill of healing.”
Her mother reached for her hand, her fingers like ice as they dug into Ailsa. “Nae, I ken the time draws near.”
“Ye must fight,” ordered Ailsa, swallowing the lump of sadness within her throat. “We are warrior women on this island. We dinnae surrender.”
“’Tis my time, dearest. I have seen the Guardian.” Her mother turned her head to the light streaming in through the arched window. “She waits for me.”
“Ye are too young. I will not let her take ye. Besides, Father would not wish to see ye in a strange land.”
“My people were the first keepers and protectors of the Fae dragons. We have all made the journey to where the last one resides. And ye must take me soon after my passing. Dinnae wait until spring.”
“Ye are a MacDuff, and I willnae have ye spouting madness about dying,” protested Bran as he entered the chamber. “The druid will find the herbs to help heal ye.”
“Ahh…but I was an O’Neill first, my love.”
Ailsa removed herself from the bedside and watched as her father sat next to her mother. He clasped her hands within his own. “Why are ye speaking about death, Aine? Can ye not fight like our daughter asked? Ye are a warrior.”
Tears rolled down her mother’s cheek. “We all are born, and we all shall die. This is—” Great coughing spasms wracked her frail body.
Ailsa reached for the damp cloth and handed it to her father. Watching as he wiped the blood away from her mother’s mouth, she realized her mother’s time was indeed slipping away. And the tears she had held back, now fell freely down her face.
Aine fought to breathe. “Grant me this one…la…last request?” Her eyes grew wide, pleading with the man beside her.
Bran shook his head. “Ye ken I could never resist anything ye ask, my leannan.”
Ailsa cupped a hand over her mouth to stifle the sobs and ran out of the chamber. Her father sought her out within the hour to give her the news of her mother’s passing.
“Here, eat some bread and cheese,” suggested Tam, nudging her on the shoulder, and taking a seat beside her. “I have brought ye a cup of ale, as well.”
Shoving the painful memory away, Ailsa took the offered items. As she ate in silence, the food and drink did naught to banish the uneasy feeling the storm was a harbinger of something more fierce waiting for them in the Highlands.